Page 220 of Fame & Rhythm

Still…

Something about it makes my stomach tighten.

We get out and walk together toward the oak tree and picnic table.

Loretta is already there, waving as we approach. “Annie, honey, how are you?” she says, stepping forward and pulling me into a hug.

I stiffen before returning it, awkward and brief.

It still feels all kinds of wrong.

Like hugging a stranger.

“I’m good,” I say, pulling back and moving toward the table. “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful,” she says, louder than usual. “You’re my daughter. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Something shifts behind me.

Movement.

Before I can turn fully, three men with cameras and one with a video rig burst from the bushes and rush straight toward us.

I freeze.

“What—”

“Ms. Banks, is it true you’re Annie Slade’s birth mother?” the cameraman asks, shoving the lens closer.

My chest tightens instantly.

No.

No, no, no.

I don’t want this out.

“Hey! Turn that off,” Mum snaps, stepping forward. “You do not have permission to film us.”

The cameraman laughs. “Public place, sweetheart. We’ve got every right.”

Dad moves in front of me, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet, his expression dark with fury. “Did you do this?” he demands, turning on Loretta.

She shakes her head quickly. “No, of course not!”

Aston is already beside me, pulling me into him and turning my face into his chest, shielding me from the cameras.

“Can we get a family shot?” one of the photographers calls out.

My stomach twists violently.

Family.

I feel the tears start to build. They’re going to put this everywhere. And today, of all days, she looks—I can’t even finish the thought.

“No, you cannot,” Dad snaps, stepping toward them. “Get the hell out of here and stop taking photos. Have you no decency?”

“Just doing our job, mate,” one of them replies casually. “And this? This is a massive story.”